


Gods and Monsters

by litra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, I'm shamelessly borrowing from Thor, Other, relationships are background, this is how he got here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They knew he was a trickster. They knew he was a god. They knew he was an angel. But Loki had many other titles as well. The one everyone always seemed to forget was Father.<br/>A retelling of several Norse myths from Gabriel’s point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Gabriel big bang 2015  
> My wonderful artiest was askthetrickstergodgabriel who can be found at http://askthetrickstergodgabriel.tumblr.com  
> The art can be viewed at:  
> http://askthetrickstergodgabriel.tumblr.com/post/118806916164/artwork-for-fangirl-litras-gabriel-big-bang-2015
> 
> Seriously go take a look, it's great. :)

The celestial battlefield was scorched. The soil had been blackened, sand crystallized by holy fire. The air rang with the echoes of spells and explosions.

Lucifer had taken the south. The angels under his command were artists and prophets. They were the ones who looked into the future and saw all the good and all the bad that humanity would do and had decided the whole race was rotten to the core. The reapers, and malcontents, and philosophers forming the first bloody revolution.

Michael erected his banners in the north. Heaven’s general led those whose purpose was purely combat. Loyal, unquestioning soldiers who were devoted to God’s plan and Michael's orders even if it meant death, or worse.

Time was fluid here, but that only seemed to magnify how long this pointless fight had gone on; it was the tide crashing on the rocks, wearing everything down to dust.

Gabriel waited for their father to come and tell them enough. Dad would  lay down the law like he had before and Luci and Mike would have to stop their bickering...at least until they found the next thing to argue about.

What was the issue this time? Something about their father’s latest experiment, being flawed. Well, it wasn’t like all of Gods creations could be as much of a success as the angels were. Gabriel’s favorites were the animals that swam and flew. Plants were less fun; they didn’t really do anything. Father’s newest pets were more clever than some, but they also didn’t have the advantages of fur, claws or even protective scales. Gabriel could kind of see Lucifer’s argument, but there was no reason to turn heaven into a battlefield over them. If the experiment failed, God would just tuck them away in a corner like He had with all the others.

The sound of ice, cracking glaciers, and low moaning wind echoed up from Lucifer’s side of things. Michael responded with the hiss of steam, the snap of breaking wood, and the hollow boom of falling rocks. Gabriel sighed. They were taunting each other again; sooner or later one of them would come out and carve another chunk out of the landscape. Why hadn’t Father settled this already? Why was Father so distant? Gabriel was supposed to be His messenger, but the last message he’d been asked to carry had been an age ago. Was he even needed anymore?

“Gabriel?”

The archangel drew his attention back from the battlefield. One of his younger brothers hovered at a respectful distance. He approached when Gabriel acknowledged the young seraph. He was a scout rather than one of Gabriel’s own. One of Uriel's lot most likely, which explained why he wasn’t adding to the chaos below. His wings were black and purple, soot and storm clouds.

“Yes?” Gabriel shifted his own golden feathers to motion for the seraph to speak freely.

“The garrisons wish to know if your trumpet will sound with the oncoming battle.”

Gabriel spun, flaring out his wings in shock that quickly turned to anger. “What?”

The little angel held his ground. “We wish to be ready if the end is upon us.”

“Who told you the end was coming? I am the messenger. My horn has not sounded. Why would you dare think that this age was coming to a close?”

“Merely  rumors. Talk.” The little angel's head was bowed in submission, but his back was straight, his shoulders squared, his feathers unruffled by the elder angel's outburst.

Gabriel huffed, forcing down his irritations. He wanted to put the fear of God in this little brother, cast silver fire and scorch the clouds with a lightning storm as impressive as any of his fellow archangels...but no. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his brow in frustration.

“Who has been spreading these rumors? Why would you give them any credit if they did not come from me or mine?” The words still rippled with power but the seraph seemed to understand it wasn’t directed at him.

“The Scribe. It was said that this age would end with the battle of brothers, the morning star and the sword of heaven.”

Gabriel released the power he had been gathering sending it out in an aurora where it would do no harm. “What is your name little brother?”

“Castiel.”

“Go then Castiel, and tell our siblings: this is not the time of endings. I do not intend to sound the end until our father bids me to with His own words, no matter what the Scribe says.”

Castiel nodded, and took his leave.

The Scribe. Naomi really should have kept a tighter leash on that one. Curse the Scribe and curse his brothers for being so predictable. With a flash of wind and rain, the battle started up again. Gabriel pulled his wings in tight and prayed.

_Father, please._

 

Well over a thousand Angels fell. It came as a shock to all of them. Angels had died before on the field of battle but none had ever been cast into disgrace like when Lucifer was cast out. Some were cast to earth, stripped of their wings and made almost mortal. Others were chained to the gates of Hell and Purgatory, made into stone and iron, to reinforce the prison of the one they had served. Others were imprisoned themselves; in blackened-silver coins or in Heaven’s prisons, it made little difference -- they were still brought low like common sinners. Gabriel felt his own wings shudder in sympathy with each feather torn away.

Then God had spoken to Michael and all of Heaven had heard his words. Gabriel had been hoping that little Castiel had been wrong, but no: the next time Michael and Lucifer met of the field of battle, would mark the end times.

Gabriel denied it with everything that he was. Let it be another of Father’s tests, a final ultimatum so they would put differences aside. The archangel reeled. No. No, they were too stubborn and prideful! He, Gabriel, would have to call his brothers to arms, and watch them die because of it. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

So he fled to earth. He didn’t know how long he could hide from his fate, but he’d do his best to find out.

  


Last time he had seen the little blue-green marble, it had only just been finished. The plants were still getting used to being out of their tubs, animals still stretching their legs and exploring; there hadn’t been time for grass to grow over raw earth or for seedlings to push their way out of their neat rows.

Now the place was wild. Nightmares prowled the dark, given form by native magic that seeped through the cracks in the world. The forests had become tangled, the seas: fierce, the mountains: jagged. It was a wonder any of the humans had survived at all.

They had done so, it seemed, by scattering all over the world. Small groups, villages, or even just families had carved out little places for themselves. They were clever, far more clever than he had thought.

Gabriel followed the pull of his vessel, traveling north to a land of ice and storms. The people lived on the edge between the sea and land. They hadn’t quite figured out proper boats yet, but they were getting there. It was a hard life, with little rest and fewer luxuries.

His vessel for this age was a raven haired youth with bright eyes and a winning smile. She was just getting to that age where they boys started noticing. Fortunately or not, she also had a father (not of Gabriel’s bloodline) with broad shoulders and a natural talent for both words and battle. His name was Woden, her’s was Munin.

Her soul was so bright, golden and glittering. No other creature on earth had souls like that of the humans and this one was made to be his. These creatures knew sin -- oh, they may not have discovered it’s depths as a race quite yet, but they had a solid grasp on the basics. Lucifer had made sure of it. So how could one young girl call to him, Gabriel, Messenger of Heaven, so fiercely?

He wanted that, and he wasn’t even sure what exactly ‘that’ was.

 

Gabriel knew he had to approach the situation carefully. He had no doubt that he could convince the girl to let him in, but actually claiming his vessel would signal his siblings. They had not been forbidden to walk the earth by God, but Michael seemed to have a stick up his ass about it, so any angel who set foot on earth without orders was suspect.

Instead he took to stalking her dreams.

She wanted to fly, so in her dreams he showed her how to be a raven. They never spoke, but she knew him as much as he knew her.

Her father was not thrilled when she started talking about the figure in her dreams. He kept her close, and rightly so, with all the dangers the world presented. Survival alone would have been hard enough...but there was something in the woods.

Gabriel didn’t recognise the signs. He had dimmed his Grace, letting it diffuse as much as he could spare to avoid his brothers. It dulled his senses to the point where he didn’t recognise the attack for what it was until the crunch of timber signaled a chorus of screams.

Gabriel hovered just out of sync with the world, watching, shocked and unable to act. The wall around the settlement was hardly worth the name. It might have been passable against human raiders, but these...these were Giants.

Covered in scraps of leather and bone, they carried saplings as clubs. Blue-grey skin covered in scars, they stood over ten feet tall;fully twice the height of anyone in the village.  There were only six of them, but it was enough. To the humans it must have seemed like an army.

They came over the wall like it wasn’t even there. Beams snapped beneath their feet. One brought it’s club down on a smokehouse and clouds of ash and smoke billowed out, lingering in the night air. Another pushed over the watchtower, the only structure in the village as tall as the giants themselves. Animals fled from smashed pens. The roofs of houses were torn open and children screamed as the monsters found them in their beds. Braziers were knocked over, sending live coals onto thatch and the night was suddenly lit by dancing flame.

Gabriel just watched, ironically helpless because his power was so immense; if he tried to strike them down, the whole village would become a casualty. As he wracked his mind for some way to aid his new favorite pets, the people scrambled for any weapon that came to hand: slings, clubs, and staffs. Worthless against the massive invaders, Gabriel thought as he watched  Munin snatch up a stone blade, fleeing her home before the roof caved in.

Woden took up his spear and planted his weapon in the center of the the village square. In a voice that commanded all to listen, he cried out to the monsters: “You Are Not Welcome Here.”

The giants paused and turned towards him. One man, no more impressive than any other, armed only with a shaft of oak and wearing nothing but breeches and a gray cloak.,

“I Am Woden. I Give You This Chance To Leave Peacefully Or Fall By My Hand.”

The largest of the giants stepped forward and roared in a harsh broken language. Woden brandished his spear and answered the challenge with a wordless war cry.

Every creature, Giant and human alike, watched unmoving, the only sound the spark of the flames, as the Giant stepped forward swinging, and Woden met him head on.

The club came down with enough force to bury itself in the earth, but Woden spun aside with ease. The spear made their reach almost equal and while the man could not hope to match a Giant’s strength, the beast was nowhere near as nimble. Woden opened a dozen cuts on the monster’s flank. Then the Giant caught the shaft of his weapon and the oak cracked to splinters. Woden staggered as the splinters exploded across his face.

The next sweep of the club tossed Woden back. He clawed at the ground with one hand, the other still gripping the broken weapon. The Giant spat onto the ground and growled something else in it’s harsh language. Woden simply got to his feet. A bruise was already spreading across his chest, and there was a bleeding gash over one of his eyes, but he barely seemed to notice.

Gabriel leaned in. There was something new here. Something even the messenger of God had never seen. Silent prayers filled the air, asking for life and protection. Power more concerned with flesh then spirit. Magic tied to earth rather than to Heaven or Hell.

Blood had been spilled. A man stood against the dark.

It was simple, but the most powerful things were when you came down to it: Flesh and Blood and Salt of the Earth. The aura that settled over Woden was so fierce Gabriel wouldn’t have been surprised if even the humans could see it.

The cry came like a bell through the silence. “Father!” Munin waved her little blade, unafraid. She stepped out of her hiding spot wearing a child’s smile. Gabriel saw her soul: unafraid. She didn’t understand that this fight was far from over. She was young and her daddy was fighting the monster.

The Giant’s club swept through the air and the aura around Woden exploded.

He stepped forward. The giant couldn’t reverse his swing.The broken spear shouldn’t have been able to do more than scratch the monster’s hide. Then the power rippled. Golden light flowed over the weapon and the newly forged blade impaled itself in the hollow of the Giant’s throat.

The Giant coughed and foamy blood spilled over its lower lip. The club faltered, then hit the ground, and the beast fell.

The other giants roared and with that the stillness was broken. Others picked up their weapons and harried the giants back.

Woden knelt and pushed aside the body of the giant he’d slain. Munin had been too close. The club had clipped her. she hadn’t been able to get out of the way. She’d been crushed by the fallen body.

Munin whimpered when she saw her father’s face. Death was not an immediate concern but she was in no small amount of pain.

Gabriel knelt next to her. Her body was broken beyond what he could heal from the outside.

Then Woden’s spear found his throat.

Gabriel could actually feel it, which shocked him enough that he froze in place.

“She is not yours spirit.”

“Actually, she kind of is.” Gabriel wasn’t sure if the man would be able to hear him. As it was his voice rang through the air and caused ripples over the water for two miles outside the village.

“I will not let you take her to the next world.”

Gabriel leaned back slightly. He really wasn’t sure what this man’s strange magic could do to him. Plus it didn’t look like it was fading any time soon….

“So, what? You think I’m a reaper? No. I’m not here to hurt her or take her away, but she’s hurt.”

Woden still didn’t look convinced, but then, a lot had happened in the last few minutes.

Gabriel didn’t have a lot of options. The smart thing to do would be to get the girl’s permission and get out of there before his brothers showed up. If she wouldn’t say yes then…. He could back off, like Woden clearly wanted him to...or he could be an idiot and help her as much as he could, then make a break for it and hope he wasn’t caught.

“You can’t heal her.” Gabriel argued. “You don’t know how.” Humans weren’t nearly sophisticated enough to treat the kind of internal damage. She would die slow or she would be crippled for life.

“You can not have her.”

“You’re kind of stuck on that aren’t you. Okay look, I can heal her if I take her--”

“No” Woden said again.

“Yeah okay, got it. What if I.” Gabriel paused, He knew he could do it but he wasn’t sure if it would be for the best. “What if I changed her?”

Woden let the tip of his weapon fall to the ground. “Change her how?”

Munin chose that moment to cough weakly. “Are we going flying again?”

Fantastic, she could hear him as well. Gabriel should have expected that, she was his vessel after all.

“Yeah, I’m going to give you wings.” Gabriel tried to keep his voice soft. He looked up at Woden and when the man didn’t immediately move to stop him, Gabriel reached out his grace.

The knowledge of how to weave his spell was there, always had been, but this was practice, not theory. Molecules shifted under his will, cells changed, were discarded, grew again. Gabriel mapped out her form to the smallest detail, injuries and all.

And it was beautiful. The complexity and the simplicity and the way the vessel cradled her soul. He saw how he could fit there beside and around her, and how she was so much more than the sum of her parts.

Gabriel took the parts of her that were still whole and showed them how to be something else. Spilled blood became water. Broken bones became clay. Under his hands she changed from a girl to a raven the size of an eagle.

Gabriel eased back waiting to see how her spirit reacted to the change.

Woden took it as a signal to lean in. He ran a hand over her newly feathered wings and the earth magic took root. Gabriel couldn’t help but be fascinated, watching the magic add a new complexity to the pattern. It was a perspective he never would have imagined on his own.

The echoes of wings caught at the edge of Gabriel’s senses.

“Piece of advice: don’t stick around.” He nodded at Woden, spread his own wings, and then stepped through folded reality.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael didn’t know how to think outside the box. It was easy to avoid pursuit when his siblings tried the same old things over and over.

 

When he’d left, Gabriel hadn’t had a plan. He had been so wrapped up in what had been going on in Heaven that he hadn't even considered Earth. It had just seemed like an escape from the family drama.  He’d kind of figured he’d have to go back once his power levels got too low, but now that he'd spent some time amongst the humans, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Angels had been created to guide and safeguard the souls of God’s creations. What happened while the beings were actually alive was secondary. Except, now he realized, it wasn’t so secondary to them.

The walls between the realms had been weakened by Michael and Lucifer’s battle. Monsters were slipping through the cracks and a new type of guardian was rising to face them. Every time someone told one of their stories, they were granted a little bit more power, until humans called them gods.

Gabriel had bristled at that, until he thought about how little his siblings were doing. How little his father was doing for his chosen.

He’d gotten an idea when he’d seen how that earth magic wove through Munin. It wasn’t incompatible with his own, and if he wove it in with his grace he’d never have to fall. There would be limitations of course, and he’d have to find a way to fool the system, but the more he thought about it the more he liked the idea.

Gabriel missed having a family, a purpose. This was the perfect solution. But how to go about it?

After a bit of consideration Gabriel returned to the north. There were half a dozen flavors of new gods now but his bloodline was in the north and he already knew one of them.

Aparently Woden had only grown in power after Gabriel had left. Spearbreaker was obvious but All Father was a new title, as was The Gray Wanderer. Gabriel wondered if he was partially responsible for that last. At some point Woden had been simplified to Odin. He’d gained a wife Frigg and others who fought beside him Baldur an adopted son, and Heimdal who was either some kind of prophet or scout, Gabriel couldn’t tell which.

There were other legends growing as well. Stories being told. Power that had yet to find a host.

Gabriel distanced himself from the idea of Thor. As much as he liked to party, the idea of being a warrior god didn’t appeal to him. Vidar was another idea coming into being. A god of vengeance who would live to see beyond the end of the world. Appropriate but again not appealing.

Gabriel found the pattern for Loki at the same time as he found his vessel. The young man wasn’t his true vessel, his blood was too tainted for that, but there was something about him. Gabriel flipped back the pages of the man’s life and winced. His mother had been of Gabriel’s bloodline, a cousin to Munin. But she hadn’t had an angel looking after her. The girl had been raped by one of the same giants that Odin had later killed.

This young man was the result, half-monster and shunned. He was a thief by necessity and a liesmith by trade. Handsome enough to catch a girl’s eye, but not so pretty that their men tried to scare him off. Golden hair and golden eyes and a smirk that Gabriel immediately identified with.

The pattern for Loki was drawn to him as a trickster, which suited Gabriel fine. All he needed now was permission. Then the kid ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was framed for murder and his chances of escape were less than nothing.

Gabriel whispered to him as he was led to the gallows. The earth shook with his voice, and even more power saturated the air, waiting to see what would happen. The yes was more of a scream then a word.

Archangel grace, pagan magic and purgatory blood boiled under the skin of one man.

Gabriel didn’t try to keep the soul from escaping. He deserved Heaven, and no matter how powerful the soul, no human could contain that much power.

It was a tempest, a thunderstorm, the roar of a solar flair and the pressure at the depths of the sea. Each element warred for dominance, Gabriel included. Luckily he had something the others didn’t: intelligence, a conscious line of thought that let him turn the other energies on each other until he was in control of the pattern.

It was…

It was amazing.

It was like breathing water or swimming through sand. Completely different from what he was used to but not in a bad way.

He could hear whispers to Loki, to him. He was the Trickster, the Liesmith, the Sky-walker. His own nature had shaped that power as well, willing or not. Heaven’s light became fire. Soulweaver became a weaving of magic and words. Gabriel was destined to signal the end of the world, now so to was Loki. Gabriel judged the wicked, well now Loki would bring down his own kind of justice.

His revelation took less than a moment and his audience cowered as green fire created a new kind of halo. This vessel had been charged for a murder it hadn’t committed, But he knew who had done the deed. He gave in to a new flair for the dramatic and snapped his fingers.

The newest god of Asgard vanished, leaving the true culprit ready to swing in his place.

Loki laughed as he stepped onto the rainbow bridge. As an angel he’d known of the plains: elemental, celestial, infernal, terrestrial. Now he had a new perspective, like looking at the worlds side on. Asgard wasn’t quite heaven, but it wasn’t quite the plain of air or earth or wood either.

It called to him. After so long on earth it might not have been his true home but it was close enough.

 

Or at least, it was close enough for the first century or two.

 

Asgard was bright and golden and a beacon of hope for yada yada yada.

For Loki it was home. He loved and hated it in turns but it was a constant, unchanging. For the part of him that was still purely Gabriel, the part that held itself apart, it was a flawed imitation.

Too many of the Asgardians were the kind of brave, honorable warriors that heaven prized so much. More than once he let his frustrations spill over. His adopted brothers, Thor and Balder often took the brunt of his pranks.

Then there was the incident with Sif.

                                               

Gabriel stormed away from the council chamber, the doors slamming shut behind him. Nothing had even happened. Thor was being his normal righteous self and Baldur was preaching about some treaty that Gabriel couldn't care less about.

He hadn't even done anything, or at least nothing worth getting kicked out for. One little flirtation with the ambassador's daughter and suddenly he wasn't a fit companion for the elf princess. Well he would have been paying more attention if Thor and Baldur hadn't been acting so much like Michael and Raphael. The part of him that was Loki could deal with the anger and frustration so much better than the angel aspect of his personality. At least then he had an outlet.

Gabriel stormed into one of the central courtyards of the palace. He had the vague thought that he'd change his form. Become a raven or a hawk for a while. He missed the feel of wind under his wings.

Even after as long as it had been there was no forgetting a set of extra limbs and keeping them hidden had become a trick he constantly maintained. Luckily any slip up, a gust of wind or if he started floating, was attributed to his magic.

The courtyard held one of the sacred Ash trees that framed the world tree. Raised flower boxes lined the paths and stretches of green lawn.

Then Gabriel saw Sif.

She had laid herself out on the grass beneath the tree. There was a book on her chest but she was no longer reading. She had in fact, fallen asleep, and as she slept her golden hair had spilled out of it's careful weaving. It spilled over the ground like silk, like water, It was too perfect.

Like grace.

Gabriel didn't even try to fight the emotions that swamped over him. His grace was too close to the surface. He felt too much. Light started to spill out from his hidden wings.

Loki was the aspect that was able to pull him back. Spite and that twisted humor covered the pain and heartache. Loki saw, snapped his fingers and changed it.

When Sif woke she was bald. Odin was furious; Thor and Frigg weren’t too pleased either. Loki didn’t see what the problem was, and he was Loki now. Sif didn’t look half bad bald. Odin laid out Loki’s punishment. Loki bowed in acquiescence.

The last shred of Gabriel was packed up tight and tucked away in the depths of his heart.

There were other things to concern himself with.

 

Loki took to visiting the other realms when he was not called to his duties as a trickster on earth or defending the walls of the worlds.

Loki delved into the roots of Yggdrasil. He visited the dwarves and won back Odin’s favor through the treasures he returned with.

Man continued to grow and learn, constantly inventing and reinventing. Their numbers had increased and proportionally their fear of the dark had decreased. After all what was to fear when they had the gods on their side?

Fate of course, was a fickle bitch.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

The walls of the world cracked. Loki wouldn’t have put it past those holy feather dusters to have caused it somehow, but of course they weren’t going to fix it, perish the thought. And of course the largest gap fell directly in line with the Norse’s area of protection.

The entire pantheon was up in arms. Baldur rallied the valkyries. Thor and Sif lead raiding teams into the dark wastes beyond the gap. Frigg was constantly at her hearth; brewing healing potions and weaving protections. Loki himself created wave after wave of illusion. 

When the rift showed no signs of closing Odin called all his advisors into his war chamber. The wide Oak tables would have been better suited to feasting, and the arched ceilings made light of the situation but at least the ever present inleys and decorations were muted; dark living wood from the branches of Yggdrasil and red banners rather than the ever present gold.

After two days of useless bickering Hrimthurs boasted that he could rebuild the wall.

“You what?” One good thing about being the pariah of the court was that Loki didn’t have to be polite about letting one of the Joten into the palace.

Hrimthurs was known as a master mason, weaving spells into whatever he built. He had built the walls that defended Jotunheimen from Asgard during more than one battle.

Hrimthurs stood and brought the hilt of his sword down on the table, demanding attention. “Hear me. If you do not wish to be drowned by an endless battle, then hear me. I will rebuild the walls along the border of the upper realm. It will be no simple task and no other could hope to succeed, and so my price will be equally great.

There was immediate outrage from the Asgardians. Thor brought up his warhammer and Loki himself let out a string of curses that would make the offender blind, deaf, and impotent. Odin waited until the uproar had died down a bit then rose to his feet. He stood across from Hrimthurs and let the end of his spear call the room to silence once again.

“And what, pray tell, would you ask of the gods for such a feat?”

The Joten bared his black and sharpened teeth. “I would ask for a sword forged from a ray of the sun, a shield carved from the curve of the moon, and Frigg as my queen wife.”

Frigg rose to her feet, ready to defend her honor but Loki beat her to it. He leaned back and laughed, long and full of mirth until all eyes on the room were on him. When he fell silent his eyes were glittering. Any of Asgard's court would have known to be wary at that look, but Hrimthurs was Joten and so was not aware. 

“Such a price would only be paid for a masterwork.”

“Do you not know my reputation?”

Oh, you clearly do not know mine, Loki thought. He rose to his feet and made a mockery of considering.

“If you would allow me Allfather?”

Odin nodded to Loki and once more took his seat.

“For such a price.” Loki mused. “The wall would have to span all the borders of Asgard, not merely the area of the incursion.”

The Joten waved a hand as if it meant nothing.

“It must be a fortification, the likes of which has never been seen.”

“What do you take me for. I am a master of my craft. There is none better.”

Loki shrugged, unconvinced. “It must be built of the bones of the earth, Midgard, not Vanaheim or Svartalfheim.” That would be an extra challenge. The gods magic came from the earth and the world tree but Midgard, Earth, was more real than any other and resisted all spells. It would make the wall twice as strong, but be ten times worse to shape.

Hrimthurs hesitated, then set his shoulders, and nodded. His pride was on the line now and Loki made it his specialty to unmake those with too much pride.

“And it must be finished before the first snows.” Seeing as the flowers of spring had not yet retreated from the fields, it was not unreasonable, at least until one considered the magnitude of the task.

Now all eyes in the room were on Hrimthurs, daring him to admit he was not up to the task or to attempt a feat that was surely impossible.

“I will accept the terms.” He declared. Odin rose and bound the agreement in words and magic. 

 

Which was fantastic until it looked like he would succeed.

 

The trouble was that they needed the wall, but now they had agreed to give up the jewel of Asgard, the queen mother. At the festival of the last harvest Loki earned more scathing looks then he had cups of mead.

In his drunken stupor, Frigg came to him. “It was a clever play Loki, but it seems that not even your tricks always go as you expect them.”

Well.

That was more rotten than a barrel of month old fish.

No. Loki refused to lose the closest thing he had had to a mother in his entire existence. He shuddered and pushed his grace down until even he couldn’t feel it. Then, still drunk off his ass he headed for the wall.

It was a masterwork, there was no doubt of that and all of Loki’s specifications had been met. The stone was cold under his fingers. Granite and marble all the way from Midgard. The spells woven in buzzed under his touch, simple but strong.

The first snow would be any day now but Hrimthurs would lay the last stone before the following evening. Loki walked the length of the wall with two steps and a snap of his fingers. The final stones were in a cart waiting to be brought to the end of the wall, but Hrimthurs’ stallion Svadilfari was tethered and waiting. 

In all fairness, he was thoroughly drunk on the wine of the gods, so the idea that came to him did not seem as mad as it should have.

Loki picked apart his shape, shifting his vessel until it became a mare of gray starlight. Loki had always been a shapeshifter, even if that normally only meant his appearance, not species.  Even so it only took him a moment to orient himself and work out how to use four legs instead of two.

Loki whinnied and pranced in joy at the new speed in his hooves and the strength of his back. Then he caught the look in Svadilfari’s eye. The stallion was larger than any earth breed, with the strength of ten horses. He pawed at the ground. Loki flipped his (actually at the moment it was her) tail. 

It only took one tug of the stallion’s head to snap his tether. Loki stretched out his power and ran.

 

The Wall wasn’t finished in time. Loki missed the party. He was a bit preoccupied.

 

Of all the things he had been throughout all the ages, Loki had never been a parent. Loki kindled the little spirit inside him and fed it his hope and joy and love. More than any being in the nine realms, more than the angels in heaven, that little spirit was his. His to protect and dote on. His to boast about and celebrate. 

Loki spent the winter months with Frigg, full of wonder at the unexpected act of creation. It made him miss the times when the world was young and everything was new and bright.

The angel in him was ashamed at his joy. By the standards of heaven his son was an abomination. It only made him want to forget all the more.

Sleipnir was truly a son of Loki. More clever by far then any other of his breed, he was a king among horses. Loki had offered to give him any shape he wanted, but his own was the only one he desired.

 

Loki found himself restless as Sleipnir grew. His nature turned on itself. Sleipnir was the brightest light in his life but he was also nephilim. One of the greatest sins an angel could commit. His son had been accepted, but would never stand in the court of Asgard. Even without the secret in his blood he would always be different. To some he would be a monster, and it was Loki’s fault. 

 

The circular thoughts darkened his mood until he was afraid to look at his son. Afraid of what Sleipnir would see in his eyes. With his usual disregard for courtesy or formality, Loki took leave of Asgard. 

 

Loki walked through the nine realms and others that the Norse had no names for. He walked Asgard's wall and slipped between the stones just to see what lay beyond. He walked across barren wastes and lush jungles. He taught the name Loki to all he met and his power only grew.

One day he set foot in a forest of old dead trees, and like every day before then he held his head high and walked without fear.

First came the mad things, monsters without enough mind to even know their own shape. When he destroyed them with barely a thought he got the attention of others with more cunning.

Loki could feel them watching. They taunted him with pools of clear water and trees of perfectly red fruit, but he had no need to eat or drink. They tried to confuse him with splitting paths that led in circles but Loki followed none of them. They set more monsters on his trail each stronger than the last, but none a worthy opponent.

Loki took to spinning his blade in his hand and whistling. He let his power flair, a bright lure of power for any that dared to claim it.

Finally one of them let itself be seen. 

A grotesque beast. A mouth of endless teeth, and black oozing sores. He knew these creatures of old, but his perspective had changed since then.

“Oh, come on. You can do better than that.”

“Kneel and swear fealty or die before you can learn to regret your actions.” The leviathan howled.

Loki let his head fall to one side. The Leviathan were one of the fiercest races in all the realms. If he were anyone else he might have considered it. Only one of the firstborn gods could face a Leviathan head on and hope to win. A lesser god would not survive. The same could be said for the host of heaven, an Archangel, maybe, but not one of the rank and file.

Of course there was the fact that he fell into both of those categories. He may not have been acting like it but he was an archangel, one of the six. He was the Trickster of the Norse. And he was greater than the sum of his parts.

Loki attacked without warning, shattering the atoms in the creature's mind and letting it melt into the earth before it had a chance to realize the danger. 

He hadn’t meant to wander into purgatory, but his mood had been guiding his steps, so perhaps it was to be expected.

Loki looked out into the dark. “I am Loki, herald of the end of days. I had heard that the Lords of Purgatory were of a higher class than this. I do hope I wont be disappointed.” 

“Apologies.” 

The voice came from behind him, but Loki refused to spin around in shock. Instead he looked over one shoulder and offered his most winning smile. “Not a problem. You are?”

The leviathan had taken an appearance similar to Loki’s own. Taller than he was, blond and kind of skinny.

“Names mean little to us, but I am the leader of my people.”

Loki shrugged. “If you say so. Is anyone else going to attack me?”

“If they do, You may deal with them as you see fit.”

Loki considered that then nodded his understanding.

“I would suggest you return to wherever you came from. This is a place for monsters.”

“You’re assuming I’m not one.”

The leader waved an uncaring hand, and stepped back into the shadows. Loki didn’t let down his guard, but he rolled his eyes at the obvious dramatics.

Now that he knew this was purgatory, he figured he might as well look around. It wasn’t like he passed this way often and he hated the idea of the Leviathan Leader thinking he was a pushover.

The leviathans didn’t hide after that. They didn’t do anything else either though. They just waited and watched him whenever he came upon them. He watched them in return, but since they wouldn’t do anything that got boring fairly quickly.

Loki was frustrated enough that he was going to leave, point or not, when the girl showed up. He was walking through the trees as he had since he got there, and there she was, sitting on a rock. They looked each other over.

She had taken a human form. Blond again, kind of pretty, and with a smile that could kill. 

“So, I hear you’re a god.”

“Maybe, who wants to know?” He said it with a smile.

“They call me Eve.”

Loki didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or grimace. She wasn’t actually The Eve so he shrugged it off.

“And what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He sidled closer.  

She paused, licked her lips then stood and sashayed over. “Anything you want.”

 

Eve wasn’t exactly the most respected but then neither was he. 

  
After that Purgatory got a lot more interesting. It was a good way to forget, and he had a lot of things worth forgetting. If a monster wanted to be his consort then who was he to deny her? He knew better than most that skin and spirit were very different things. Maybe he could find his own salvation along with hers.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Fenrir was another surprise but again not a bad one. At least this time he was actually the father of his child. Fenrir was fierce was bright and something never seen before. A wolf and a man and more than both. He was the first, the alpha, and his brothers and sisters each a new and twisted shape ran with him under the red moon.

Loki gained a new title, Father of Monsters. And the Wild Hunt celebrated with blood and combat. They were grand and terrible, and Loki loved every twisted, broken one of them.

 

Time didn’t exist in purgatory so Loki didn’t know how long it was before he woke bound and with Eve’s blade at his throat.

“Kinky.” Because when all else failed, he at least had an endless supply of one liners. And all else was failing at the moment. He couldn’t move and his magic wasn’t responding. the rock he was bound to was covered in blood painted symbols, and once he bothered to check, he realized it wasn’t rope holding him, it was a snake. One of his own children. It opened it’s mouth and venom splattered over his cheek. Loki winced but when he took stock it actually wasn’t nearly as painful as the carvings on his chest.

Eve dragged her blade from his collar bone to his left nipple, and hissed in frustration.

“Why isn’t it working?” There was fear and desperation under the demand.

Loki wasn’t quite sure what she meant until he looked down and realized the blood had frozen as it fell. He’d almost forgotten about that. It had been a long time since being the child of giants had done him any good.

“Sorry bloodplay isn’t really my thing, and certainly not in front of the kids. Whatever would the neighbors think?”

Eve’s expression went sour. “They’ll do what I tell them. Mother knows best.”

Loki looked back up at his child. “And that includes bondage? Patricide? Got to tell you, even from a monster I expected better. That is not what parenting is about.”

Eve hissed and stomped her foot, pushing her knife against his throat. “Why isn’t it working?” Your power should have been mine long ago.

“Oh, is that what this is all about, why didn’t you just say so?” She couldn’t take his power because it was the antithesis of her own, that and his magic was so cobbled together at that point that no one else could hope to untangle it. He’d never have let her get so close if that wasn’t the case.

“Just give it to me and die.” Her blade stabbed down, but he wasn’t there anymore.

Her spells had managed to bind his magic but nothing she could do could touch his grace. A flutter of wings and he stood across the clearing. Blood still dripped from his wounds but he ignored it, standing tall.

“You see, that’s what I’m talking about. Setting a bad example all around.”

Eve screamed, desperation and fury, but Loki was gone. He could bluff until the stars fell from the sky but the truth was that it would take time for his magic to return. Until it did, he couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to.

 

Loki fled. He hid in the spaces between the worlds and wept.

More children without a father. More sins to be marked against his soul. More lives that would know nothing but blood and violence. And what made a monster? Could he really say that his children were not monsters if that was all they knew? He knew he loved them regardless, but was that enough?

He was tired and he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He was adrift without a home, without a family, without a purpose.

 

Once he had been an angel. Not just an angel, Gabriel, archangel and messenger of God. He had no claim to that holiness now, not after everything he’d done.  He’d been a god. But the gods were defenders of Man. They stood against the dark, and he had only created more shadows. He had been a monster. or at least he thought he had been. Though, if he was a monster why did he run rather than kill Eve? Why care so much it hurt? He’d thought a monster was more than what it appeared to be. Now he wasn’t sure. And what did that mean for him?

 

He drifted between the worlds as if laying in a boat. He let the currents take him where they pleased. He didn’t expect any answers from the dark.

 

He got one anyway.

 

“Not alone.” It was dim and simple, more thought then proper words.

Loki hesitated, then cast his thoughts out. “Hello?”

“Other. Not alone. Together.”

 

Nothing should have been able to survive between the worlds. Even Loki had shields in place to protect himself. Yet there it was. The spark that teased at new life. It was by definition an abomination against Gods creation.

Loki followed the little thought-voice. Maybe this was some kind of second chance. A way to prove he’d learned his lesson. Kill the monster and return to a welcoming home.

Then he actually saw the monster and if this was a test it was a cruel one.

It was so small. A child in it’s simplicity.

“Together. Not alone.” it whispered again and reached out of the void sea.

Gabriel let that tendril curl around his fingers. If this was a test he would fail it, and god should have known better than to send the angel of creation and creativity and childbirth to kill an innocent life like this.

“No, not alone.” and when it seemed to perk up to listen, he started talking. He said anything that came to mind at first, jokes and fables and riddles. Easy questions with easy answers and simple morals.

The little spirit didn’t speak much, but it listened intently. It learned, and where it started as a flickering spark that could go out at any moment it became a bright and steady flame.

After a while Loki ran out of easy things to talk about. Little Jormungandr  held him close in the ocean between the world and  tried to comfort him.

  
  


“You are sad?” Jormungandr hadn’t had a concept of happy or sad when Loki had first arrived, only of loneliness. There had been a lot of things that Loki had shown him, intentionally or not.

“I don’t know what to do.” Loki replied.

“Why?”

“I..” Loki stopped and tried to think things through. “It’s complicated.”

“Talk to me.”

They had the time, since time only existed inside the world. Loki knew Jormungandr would not judge him. He couldn’t. Jormungandr didn’t know about the rules he had broken or why they mattered. he didn’t know about the things he had run from. Jormungandr was something else. He wasn’t good but certainly wasn’t the evil that Loki had feared in the beginning.

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to see me differently.”

Jormungandr sometimes still had trouble with words. Loki had tried to explain how inside the world thoughts were only inside yourself but Jormungandr didn’t have the proper frame of reference.  

He sent a wave of emotion towards Loki. It started with relief, the sudden absence of fear and the knowledge that there was someone else there facing the dark with him. then came a fluttering of awe and excitement that bloomed into joy and the warmth of love. It became a constant  presence until the loneliness was nearly forgotten, and the thought of that loss was like a hole in his chest.

“You are here with me.”

Loki couldn’t find his voice. he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Okay.”

Loki started at the beginning, and didn’t leave anything out. all the pain and loss and fear. All the unflattering choices that had led him to hiding here.

He had lived a long life and he wasn’t a human to easily forget things.

Jormungandr settled in and listened. He was good at that.

After Loki finally admitted to thinking of killing Jormungandr when they had first met, he fell silent.

“I would like to see your world.” he said at last.

Loki curled one of his wings around Jormungandr but his expression remained somber.

“I’m not sure that’s possible. You are something else. I’m not sure you can exist there.”

“But could I see it?”

Loki considered that, and decided it was possible. He couldn’t help but ask. “Is that it?”

“It?”

Loki knew he was projecting his uncertainty.

“You live, and now maybe I live to because of you. You traveled a long path, but you found me and now I am not alone. Thank you for talking to me.”

Loki couldn’t put his gratitude into words. Instead he reached out and caught hold of a thread of the nearest world. He wove the thread into a window and together they looked down at the planet. It was midgard and it had changed again.

The humans had learned how to shape bronze and iron. They had built empires and citadels and wared among each other.

Michiel had turned to earth again. He had found a woman in the desert. She was going to have a child and the spirit already sparkled with Grace. Gabriel didn’t know if it would become Michael's nifelheim or if it was truly another little brother, but he knew he had to warn her. A child of such destiny could not be allowed to grow up wickid or spiteful. The woman at least was kind he could see that much, but kindness wasn’t always enough.

Jormungandr sensed his agitation and wrapped himself around Loki.

“Go. That is where you are needed. Thank you for showing me all that you have.”

Loki was grateful, but... “Are you sure? What will you do once I leave?”

Jörmungandr seemed to consider, then he spread out the coils of himself and wrapped them around Earth.

“This world is full of everything I did not know I dreamed of. I will keep it safe.”

Loki gave Jormungandr his love and left the window spell running as he slipped back into the world.

 

It was the first time he had let his shape reflect the holiness of his grace since he had claimed the title of Loki, and it rested sour on his tongue, even as he spoke the words of prophecy.

She was of Michiels’ bloodline. If she were to have a second child… No. It was not yet time for the end of the world. Loki had never wanted that even when he would have willingly died himself. She would have this child but she would have no others. There would never be a brother for the boy to fight. He gave her warning then went to drown himself in humanity before he thought too much about what he had done or the fact that his brothers would be furious.


	5. Chapter 5

The summer was hot at the foot of the Himalayan mountains. Loki was dressed as a trader, fleecing the money of anyone who tried to con him, when he met her. Her black hair fell in rings down her back. She was dressed in fabric that would have cost a year’s pay for anyone in the village. It was a deep red that brought out the depth of color in her skin. It took a close eye to see that it was actually stained with blood.

 

She walked through the village as if it was a palace. Her feet turned the ground to ash where she stepped and when a group of young men moved to block her path, Loki had no doubt that they would face a painful death before the day had passed.

“You don’t want to do that.”

They flipped him off.

Loki watched as they forced her to stop and made the usual ‘what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this’ overtures. They were human so of course they couldn’t see the power she wielded like he could but still. If she didn’t do anything he would.

She didn’t let them touch her. The minute one of them tried he collapsed, screaming and clutching his throat. He started coughing up blood. It was enough for his friends to step back with looks of confused horror on their faces. They looked at the woman then down at their friend. The man on the ground shuddered then went still. In the few seconds he’d been on the ground large black and purple bruises had formed on nearly all his visible skin.

The other men turned and took the better part of valor. Loki pushed off the wall he had been leaning against.

 

He stepped up to the side of the room and held up a hand. A snap of his fingers and they were swallowed by the earth. Only then did he turn to the woman.

“Loki, at your service.”

She looked him over then grudgingly gave her name. “Kali.”

That explained some things. The death got of the Deva. She was more impressive than he had pictured. The humans had been right about one thing though. She was a major presence in her pantheon, what was she doing out here in the middle of nowhere. Well maybe not as much the middle of nowhere for her as for him but still.

“May I ask where you’re headed?”

She turned away dismissing him, and Loki felt his heart stop. So he maybe had a thing for bad girls, but anyone who denied a woman like that was either lying or gay.

She hadn’t told him to get lost so he fell into step a pace behind her as she stepped over the body. It was clear that she had noticed but she continued to ignore him.

Loki considered his next more as they passed the edge of town, and started up the slope of the mountain. There were little yellow flowers growing in patches. Loki stooped to pick one. With a thought and a snap of his fingers he sent out a wave of illusion. Flowers  grew up, lining the path in yellows and reds. She paused then continued on as if it was nothing.

Loki hid a smile and smelled his flower.

The path wound into the hills.

They past a goatherd and his flock. Loki snapped his fingers again and gave all the goats silver bells so the air was full of little chimes. This time her steps didn’t falter but her feet found the rhythm of the song.

Loki was trying to think up something else to make her smile when the path curved around an outcrop of rocks and they were standing in front of a respectable cottage. it was nothing fancy but it was solid, made out of stacked stones and thatch. It was large enough that it probably held an entire family. Chickens nested in a coup against one wall. The well in the yard and the shed large enough to house a pair of oxen indicated that if the family wasn’t wealthy than they were at least well established. There were prayer flags hanging from the eaves. Hushed conversation drifted through the open door.

As the two gods approached a little girl, maybe twelve years old, ran out of the house carrying a bucket. She was half way through pulling up water from the well when she saw them. The girl gasped and dropped her bucket spilling what little water she had gathered over the ground.

Loki smiled and nodded to her. He’d dropped the merchant act during their walk, but he still looked more normal then Kali.

“Mama.” The girl cried out then darted for the house. A woman presumably her mother caught her in the doorway. They both looked up at Kali and Loki.

“Oh dear gods.” it didn’t look like the woman had meant to say anything.

“Yes.” Kali answered with formality.

Loki couldn’t stop a chuckle then hastily turned it into a cough when Kali aimed a dry look at him.

“You’ve come for her haven't you?”

Kali nodded.

The woman fell to her knees and clutched her child to her chest. “Please. Please.” she was crying but again it didn’t look like she had noticed. A man appeared behind her and looked over the scene. His face went white and he clutched at the woman’s shoulder to keep himself standing.

Sometimes Loki forgot the impact that seeing the gods had on the average human. He walked among them often but it was always as something other, a disguise, an illusion. Plus the people he targeted always deserved it. they were supposed to be shaken up afterwards (if he left them alive) otherwise how would they ever learn their lesson.

Kali though, she just stood there and the family fell to their knees and begged her to spare them. That was the kind of thing that had lead to Loki’s recent vacation.

“Let me see her.” Kali’s voice was steady and detached.

The man forced himself to his feet and pulled his wife inside. The two gods waited. A few minutes later the man came out of the house again, this time carrying a bundle, no not a bundle, a person.

The woman was old. Nearly skin and bones, she was wrapped in shroud thin cloth that fluttered at the smallest breeze so it took Loki a moment to realize that the old woman was still alive. The man knelt and laid her on the ground as gently as he could, then sat back on his heels.

“Please.” he said again.

Kali didn’t pay him any notice now that he had done as she asked. She stepped forward and knelt by the old woman.

“I’ve come to thank you for your service.” Kali looked into the woman’s eyes then bent and kissed her on the forehead. With a final shudder the woman closed her eyes and seemed to fold in on herself. The man let out a stunned cry, and brought a hand to his mouth. It got no more of a reaction then his earlier plea.

Kali stood and turned away, heading back down the path but Gabriel shook his head.

“Wait.”

For some reason that was what made Kali pause. She turned and let her gaze roll over her shoulder. Loki stepped forward and knelt where kali had next to the old woman’s form.

“Who was she?” He tossed back over his shoulder.

“One of my chosen. She served me for many years.” Kali still hadn’t fully turned around.

“What was her name?” Loki let his voice go soft as he met the eyes of the man who had brought her out of the house. He seemed to be in shock. He was shaking and hadn’t noticed.

“Amita.”

Loki nodded and held a hand over her body. “Thank you Amita. May you find rest in the land of eternal spring.” The shroud she was wrapped in changed to golden silk. He snapped his fingers and her form was wrapped in blue fire.

Loki looked around as the spirit of the woman hovered in the air. A reaper waited at a respectful distance, no doubt waiting for the departure of Kali and himself. He caught up her spirit and handed it to the reaper with reverence.

“Make sure she is treated with care.”

The reaped nodded and slipped away.

Only with the woman’s body as ashes in the wind did he turn away from the house. Kali was watching him now. He let her.

“Why did you do that?” She asked when the house was out of sight. “She wasn’t one of yours.”

“Nope, but she was a good person or you wouldn’t have made a personal appearance.”

“And for that you gave her funeral rites?”

“For that I gave her respect. Plus, no need to put those people through anything else. Not when they’re mother or grandmother just died.”

“You care more than a god should.”

“Probably.” Loki let his head fall back and looked up into the darkening sky. “They’re not so different from us you know. Less power but they’re doing the best they can.“

Kali looked at him, her hair was spilling over one shoulder and she was more beautiful than anything he’d seen in a long time.

“I don’t understand you.”

That made him laugh. “You know, no one really does. Ahh the pains of being a trickster god.” He brought up one hand dramatically. “I bet you get some of that too. Death gods aren’t exactly welcomed, even in a pantheon like yours.”

Kali stopped walking to consider that. “Perhaps.”

“Not easy, is it?”

“No.”

Loki offered his hand. “Maybe I can make it a little easier.”

She didn’t look impressed. Loki was getting the impression that she rarely was, But she took his hand anyway.

 

Loki had decided to live. No more guilt no more regret, just life, every moment to the fullest. And Life was never more vibrant than on the edge of death.

Kali made his breath catch. She was a whirlwind, a firestorm. They danced across battlefields, laughing at the carnegie. They sank Atlantis, incited revolutions, Ignited volcanoes just to outrun the blast. Their courtship was bright and violent and doomed from the start.

 

“Kali, What are you doing?” Loki was ignoring the tempest raging around them. Kali was standing on the edge of the cliff. That alone wouldn’t have been a problem, Sea and storm could never hope to kill a god as powerful as Kali. What had Loki concerned was the bundle in her arms.

“Removing a nuisance.”

“Kali, that doesn’t look like a nuisance. That looks like a baby.”

Kali turned and offered the bundle to Loki with one hand. He took it carefully. It was a baby. A little girl with Kali’s dark hair and his own golden eyes. He fell in love with her faster than he had with her mother.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Then you can take her.” Kali turned away and started walking.

“What?”

“Take her back to Asgard. Give her to some human. Leave her on the side of a road. I don’t care.”

“She’s your Daughter!” Loki couldn’t help the scorn in his voice.

Kali stopped and looked up into the storm. “You are an enigma to me Loki.  You kill nearly as often as I do and yet you cling so desperately to a life with no purpose.”

“Her purpose is that she’s our daughter.”

Kali waved a negligent hand. “I end life, I don’t grant it.” Then with a thought she was gone.

Loki looked down at the child in his arms. Okay so it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d found himself suddenly a parent, but that didn’t change the flutter of panic in his chest.

“Okay, I guess it’s just you and me then huh? So, what should I call you?”


	6. Chapter 6

Her name was Hel and she was truly born of the gods.

 

Her siblings, Loki’s other children, were monsters and Nephilim and godlings. Sleipnir Had been welcomed in the halls of the gods but by denying his other, darker natures, he had limited his own destiny. Fenrir had done the opposite. He had become the Moon Eater, The First Alpha, and a terror that would be remembered until there were none left to do so. It had had it’s own price; Fenrir was as far from Holy as was possible to be, even including Lucifer’s children. Then there was Jörmungandr. A being that should have been the worst of the lot but had managed to personify all the love and Faith that heaven inspired, sacrificing himself in the process.

 

Their own waring nature limited their power. Somehow those conflicting energies had found a balance in Loki’s youngest. It made her potentially very dangerous. From a certain callos point of view, Loki could almost understand why Kali had thought of killing her.

 

Hel was a goddess of death like her mother, but where Kali merely an ending, It was Hel’s nature to protect those souls that could not protect themselves. This let the part of her that was an angel flourish. Souls were after all, under the purview of heaven. Loki at first there was no seed of the monster in her; he learned he was mistaken when they reached Asgard.

Hel grew quickly. By the time they stepped off the rainbow bridge, she was a dark skinned toddler. Loki kept hold of her hand the whole way. Heimdal saw them coming. He sent messengers ahead to let Odin know. The court was busy but not so busy it could ignore the return of the prodigal son.

Loki walked past all the courtiers in their regal finery to stand before Odin and Frigg’s thrones. He was still dressed in the latest London fashions which he had been wearing when he left earth, and Hel was in a simple blue dress. They couldn’t have stood out more if they’d tried.

“Mother, Father.” Loki made a little bow. “May I present, my daughter Hel.” He kneld next to her. “Hel, these are your grandparents, Odin and Frigg, They are King and Queen of Asgard.”

Hel had one of her black curls wrapped around her hand. She touched it to her lips, her eyes darting back and forth between Loki and everyone else in the room.

“You have been gone for some time Loki.” Frigg’s voice was concerned, and her eyes lingered on Hel.

Before Loki could answer Odin held up a hand. “News of your activities has reached us here. We have concerns. My queen, will you take the girl and see that she is well?”   

Both Loki and Frigg seemed to find that distasteful, but the queen stood and descended from her throne. As the mother goddess Odin was well within his rights to ask it of her, even if Loki sensed it would cost him an ally in whatever argument he was about to get into. Hel looked at her father again.

“Go on.” Loki said. “She’s my mother, She’s nice.”  

Hel consented to taking Frigg’s hand and only looked back once as she was let away. Loki waved and smiled, then turned back to Odin with a serious expression.

“So.”

Odin leaned forward in his seat. “You have been busy Loki.”

“If you would call it that. I consider it more of a long ramble myself. Can one be busy if one does not have a purpose?”

Odin’s glower turned into a full glare and he flexed his fingers on the shaft of his spear. “Are you aware of what your wanderings have caused?”

“I am aware of a great many things. To which are you referring?” Loki’s Expression was as innocent as he could make it, then again he hadn’t been innocent in a long time.

Odin stood. “Your interference has sewn chaos on the mortal plain! Scores of new monsters, Your Scions, have been devouring our people. Wolves who bare your mark broke through the world walls. You meanwhile, were nowhere to be found. My queen, Your Mother, thought you dead. Then we hear tell that you live and instead of returning to these golden halls you remain dallying with mortals. I would have understood if you were seeing fit to face the problem caused by your actions but instead you find another who shares your wayward nature. How could you stand to mingle with another pantheon and a death goddess at that. Then you return with that destroyer’s spawn, and expect her to be accepted in my court? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Loki paused and rocked back on his heels. “Well, I do not say anything for myself, as I can’t seem to get a word in edgewise.”

“Loki.” Odin growled a warning.

Loki looked down smiling then looked up at the court. “I’m not sure I see the problem.”

Odin took a step forward. Loki opened his arms, and turned to the court. “I am Loki. I am the trickster. I am the son of giants and the father of monsters. I weave illusions and court destruction. I am the one who will call down the end of days. Please tell me, honestly, what did you expect?”

The crowd began muttering under it’s breath. Loki waited with a smile on his face and his arms still outstretched. Odin took up his spear and descended from his throne.

“You try my patience Loki. Be wary or I will cast you out for the next hundred years.”

Loki hooked his hands behind his back and leaned forward speaking in mock seriousness. “Father, your threats may be more effective if you threaten with something that would actually be distasteful.” Loki held up his hands. “Just a thought.”

Odin had to visibly restrain himself. He looked heavenward and breathed slowly. “Loki, give me a reason not to lock you away, or so help me you will face a punishment worthy of your many crimes.”

Loki let his expression grew somber. “I came home seeking a safe haven for my daughter. Since I left my mind wandered far, but I have since found a peace within myself again. Accept us, grant us sanctuary and I will be the fiercest warrior, the finest tool at your command. This is the last bastion that I can call home.”

His words resonated even though they were spoken quietly.

Odin let his head fall forward and leaned on his spear. The whole court waited, silent for his response. The only sound was the crowing of the ravens above them in the branches of the world tree.

Before he could lay down judgement Frigg reentered the room. Her form sparkled with magic and she was using a long and carefully measured stride that managed to be swift without looking like she was rushing.

“My Lord Husband, Loki, I would have you attend.” No matter how politely phrased Loki knew an order when he heard one and his heart leapt into his throat. Had something happened to his little girl?

Loki barely heard Odin ask if the guard was needed. He was too busy pushing past his mother, desperate to find Hel. He darted past one of Frigg’s handmaidens and out into one of the inner gardens.

This particular garden was overshadowed by an enormous ash tree. The same ash tree that Sif had once slept beneath the day loki had stolen her golden hair. There was a small fountain, and little flower boxes laid out artistically. This time of year he’d expect tulips and daffodils, butterflies, honeybees and songbirds should have been active.

Half the lawn was dry and brown. The air was still, the husks of bees lay brittle on the path. The leaves of the ash tree had turned unseasonably yellow and brown. It’s bark looked strangely pale, and there was a long crack winding up the site of the trunk, as if it had been struck by lightning. There was a winding trail of dead flowers meandering from one box to the next, and at the end stood Hel.

She was delicately leaning over the flowerbed. Loki watched as she reached out one small hand to touch the petals, and the flower withered. Hel watched in joyful awe, before giggling and moving on to the next flower.

There were footsteps and then a curse from behind Loki and he moved before his mind could catch up. Loki sast out a protective spell locking Hel in a bubble of energy. He lept forward, out of the range of a sword from behind and spun pulling out a blade of his own. Odin, Balder, Frigg and Thor, had followed him from the council chamber. Frigg’s expression had grown from worry to the edge of fear. Odin was stoic as always. Baldur and Thor took in the scene and reached for their weapons.

Hel looked up at the bubble around her, then turned towards where Loki had put himself between her and the others. “Daddy?”

“Everything’s going to be okay pumpkin. You just stay right there.”

“You brought death into the heart of Asgard. Look at what she has done in a mere few minutes.” Baldur waved a hand at the courtyard.

“She’s a child. She didn’t know any better.” Loki snarled back.

“If she can not control herself then she is a threat and must be treated as such.” Thor threw in on Baldur's side.

“Rich words brother. Remind me, How many storms did you conjure when you were her age?”

“Enough, Loki. You and your spawn will bring nothing but ruin to Asgard.” Baldur hefted his sword and stepped into a charge.

Loki heard Hel shriek behind him. He stepped into the attack. Holy silver wrang against Godly steel. For a moment there was a test of strength, then Loki gave in and his form melted into a flock of birds.

Baldur was not taken in by the illusion, he pulled back, and lifted his sword to a guard position. As the birds rose, Loki came in low. He struck out at Baldur’s legs, attempting to hamstring him. Baldur was not known as one of Asgard's finest warriors for nothing. He pushed himself forward, lashing out with his sword just to gain a little distance.

Loki used his free hand to push off the ground. Loki snarled a word. Ice was conjured out of the air, shooting as knives at Baldur. It was enough to keep him on the defensive.  

Loki darted in again. Baldur swung wildly. Loki brought up his own blade on reflex. Baldur cried out as he lost his grip on his weapon. Then Loki was inside his guard. Loki’s blade found the soft spot under his arm.

Baldur gasped and lost his footing. Blood spread over the ground, staining the dead grass bright red.

Hel took a step towards the blood as it flowed closer. She knelt and dipped in her hand, coming up with her dress stained and her fingers dripping.

Loki cleaned his blade with a thought. He hadn’t truly killed Balder. There were too many people who believed in the other god. Boldur would find another vessel and return to Asgard. Loki planned to be gone before that happened though. He stepped up next to Hel and ruffled her hair.

“You okay sweetie?”

“Red.” Hel said holding up her bloody hand.

“Yes it is.” Loki nodded but his attention was already back on Odin and the others, and his tone had darkened.

Odin stepped forward. “Loki you do yourself no favors. Baldur may have been the one to instigate that bout but there was no need to take it to such an extreme.”

“Do not claim you have not done the same for the sake of your children.” Loki tossed a hand at the barren branches of the ash tree where Munin had joined them. “I thought we could be safe here but if you lay a finger on Hel I’ll do the same to any one of you.”

Odin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry Loki but you have gone too far. Leave now, and my guards will not pursue you, but attempt to return and you will not be welcomed.”

Loki raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

 

Loki tried to keep up a brave face for Hel, but he was scared. Scared that he’d screw this all up again. Scared that he wouldn’t be able to teach her properly. She could probably end the world if she wanted to, and if that was what she chose it would be his fault. Or there was the alternate extreme. The fear that she’d have to spend her whole life running. That she’d hate herself and her powers.

Loki couldn’t take her back to earth. If she did that much damage in one of the inner gardens of the gods then the moment he took his eyes off her she’d be a plague across the land.

She had so much to learn, but true skill in using her abilities would take years of practice. He wanted to be there to hold her hand through all of it, but that just wasn’t an option. He wasn’t planning on abandoning his youngest but he had his duties.

The rainbow bridge reached every corner of the nine realms, and he couldn’t think of a single place to go.

He watched his daughter skipping ahead of him. She’d gotten over any fear from earlier. Hel caught sight of something and ran over to the edge of the road. She was smiling again and he looked up to see what had caught her eye. Mist swirled around the bridge, creating shapes and illusions that even he couldn’t duplicate.

Niflheim. The realm of ice, and home to the source of the nine rivers that had created the world. The norse said Niflheim was where all life flowed from and where all life would eventually return.

They were right in a way. Niflheim was where the plains of Ice and light and wind met the border of heaven.

Loki hadn’t realized they’d walked that far.

Hel scampered back over to him and caught his hand. “Daddy, can we?”

Loki looked out at the mist again. “Okay, for a little while, but you stay close okay?”

She nodded vigorously. Loki spoke a word of power and the bridge opened, letting them step down onto the mist wrapped stone. Loki whispered another spell to tie Hel to him, a tether just in case.

Loki let his mind wander as Hel played and explored. There wasn’t any life here among the glaciers for Hel to destroy so her passage caused no damage.

There were ghosts in the mist. Spirits that had denied their reaper and then gotten lost, or the victims of reapers who had been killed before they could deliver the souls they carried. To many creatures could feed off human souls. Reapers were powerful, but sometimes not powerful enough.

Loki kept an eye on them, but his daughter was a death goddess, they posed no threat to her. It fact, by the time Hel found a little stretch of sand beside one of the ice flows to play on, she had gained a following.

A handful of will-o-wisps were circling her head giving her a dancing crown, or a halo. other spirits who still had scraps of memories and could form a human shape followed her and did as she asked. They weren’t the worst playmates a little girl could ask for.

 

Loki would swear until his dying day that he only looked away for a moment.

The mists had closed in around them and suddenly he didn’t know where Hel was. He called her name and got no answer. He scrambled frantically for the tether he’d woven to her, every moment thinking of all the worst things that could have happened. Then he had the end of the spell and was running.

One minute his feet were on damp sand, the next the earth had opened up around him. Loki fanned his wings, sending out light and his angelic senses. A cavern, carved around a cleft in the rock that wound into the depths.

And Hel’s marker was straight below him.

 

Loki let himself fall towards Hel.

 

Around him the slice in the earth became a passage.  Water fell around him, pulling down the souls of those wandering above. Then the earth opened up around him into a cavern so enormous even he couldn’t see the end of it. It was an entirely different plane and yet still connected to Niflheim above.

The ground came up out of nowhere, and Loki spread his wings, stopping less than a foot above the surface. Except it wasn’t earth, it was water. An endless dark lake covered in a thin sheen of cracked ice. Below the surface Loki could see the forms of the drowned and tormented.

He focused back on Hel’s marker and with another flap of his wings he sped out over the ice. Stone rose out of the water and Loki finally caught sight of his little girl. It was the figure next to her that made him redouble his speed.

Death stood leaning on his cane and looking down at Hel’s small frame. They were surrounded by abandoned souls who watched in perfect silence.

Loki’s first instinct was to put himself between Hel and Death; to protect her in any way he could. He managed to reign in the impulse, and came to a stop behind her. Loki put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders.

“Hey, Pumpkin, I thought I told you to stay close.”

“Hi, Daddy. I get a present!”

“Is that right?” Loki kept his eyes on Death, his tone quietly threatening. He didn’t care if it cost his life; If Death was planning on hurting his daughter in any way, he’d pay.

Death turned his attention to Loki. “It has been some time Gabriel. I was just speaking to your daughter about these spirits. She seems to have an affinity for them.”

Loki was still tensed. He waited for the catch, the punch line.

“Do you know what this place is?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“This is a place where the unquiet dead may go to rest. It is a place for spirits who did not distinguish themselves as either good or bad. Those whose scales were perfectly balanced. Limbo. Unfortunately they present a rather large target for creatures who would harm them. I had been considering some form of caretaker, but I have no one who I can spare who would be suited to the task.”

Loki felt his shoulders drop and the tension drain out of him as he realized what Death was offering.

“You’d take her in. Make her one of yours.” Technically she was already empowered by death, but there was a big difference between just using the energy put off by the last flair of life and what Death was offering. It was the difference between cutting down a tree to remove the leaves, vs. the onset of winter.

All of Death’s servants were forced to work inside the system. They could never harm the dead or take anything before it’s time. But in exchange, They were granted Death’s power by proxy and his protection. To put it in angel terms, he was offering to promote her from cherub to archangel.

Loki knelt beside his daughter and turned her to face him. “Hey, Pumpkin, you know I want what’s right for you. I love you very much. But I can’t tell you what to choose here. It’s up to you.”

She looked around at all the spirits, then back to Loki. “Will you be here?”

“I’ll have to leave eventually. This is a place for you and Death, not for me. But I’ll stay for a while and I’ll come visit as often as I can.”

“I like it here.” she whispered it with her eyes downcast, as if she didn’t know if it was okay.

“Then you can stay, if you want to.”

Hel nodded. Loki pulled her into a tight hug then forced himself to his feet and together they turned towards Death.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki returned to earth. He stepped onto the grass and tasted spring. The humans had jumped ahead again. The combustion engine was the latest fad, and the gods were decidedly a thing of the past.

Loki decided that was just fine with him. He was done with big dramatic gestures. besides, punking the drunk guy at the bar who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was way more entertaining.

 

When Loki met the Winchesters he knew they were hiding something. When he figured out they were hunters about two seconds later he decided to have his fun with them and that would be that.

He didn’t realize until later who they were meant to be, and by the time he did, it was too late.

 

“It’s started. You started it. So let’s get it over with.”

He gave in. To hell with it, literally. Because even after all this time, it still hurt to think of his brother’s fighting. TV land was supposed to be his greatest trick ever, except then they trapped him in a ring of holy fire so maybe not.

Dean was as confident and self-righteous as Michael, with his speeches and guilt trips.

“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.” They, because he’d stopped calling himself by that name eons ago. Even then, trapped in holy fire and asked straight out, he could only answer in a low tone.

It cut too close. It all cut too close. Loki, Gabriel, whoever he was, opened his mouth and let his silver tongue pour out everything that he still feared and hated. Dean just kept pushing his buttons. Sam was almost worse, that look, somewhere between sympathy and pity.

Dean’s final words cut deep. How much of it was just him being a coward? He still hadn’t sounded the final trumpet, no matter how much he claimed he just wanted it to end.

Loki wanted to rage and cry. He wanted to tell them they were wrong and he wanted to be proved otherwise. He kept looking in on the brothers and their pet angel. And wasn’t that a kick in the ass. Little Castiel had been the one to pull Dean out of hell.  Loki couldn’t help but wonder if what he’d said those eons ago had been a factor in Castiel’s choice to fall.

 

Then Baldor and Odin come to earth.

Kali’s message gave him the wheres and whys

Except when he snuck in to take a look it wasn’t only Baldur and Odin. Kali was there of course. Kali was there and she was letting Baldur of all people fawn over her. She’d brought Ganesh.  Baron Samedi and Legba and Kalfu. The Maya was suspiciously absent but every other pantheon had at least one representative. And somehow the Winchesters had been pulled into the middle of it.

Once Odin and Zao Chen started arguing Loki knew this wasn’t going to end pretty.

He swung through the doors with a trademark smile on his face. “Can’t we all just get along?” Dean nearly slipped up but a quick spell tied up the brother’s vocal cords. “Sam, Dean, it’s always wrong place worst time with you two muttonheads.”

“Loki.” Baldur’s voice was a growl, but that was hardly a surprise.

Loki managed to keep back the smirk-- mostly. Baldur’s new meat suit looked more like a business exec then a mighty warrior. off to one side Odin, leaned back in his chair and quietly shook his head.

“Baldur. Good seeing you too. I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.”

“Why are you here?”

Ah good old Baldur, straight to the point even if he had to go through the wall to get there. still there wasn’t time to pull out the old rivalry. Loki had forfeited when he’d left asgard in any case. So instead of baiting Baldur further he let his expression sober.

“To talk about the elephant in the room. Not you. The Apocalypse.” Loki couldn’t really blame Ganesh. Once you had your head stolen by one, well it was all downhill from there. “We can't stop it, gang. But first things first.” Loki turned and snapped Sam and Dean back to their room, sending one of his copies after them.

Loki turned back to the room at large. He took a breath and honestly wondered what he was doing here. Maybe Dean’s words had hit a bit too close. Maybe he didn’t want to see his brother fall all over again, through Sam. Family that he hadn’t even given a thought to in milenia, or at least since the last time Michael had tried to pull this stunt.

“We can’t stop it. And I’m not saying we don’t have the power or the skill.” Though to be honest they didn’t. Now just wasn’t the time to say so. “We can’t stop it because they’re not trying to destroy the world. That’s just an unfortunate side effect. They’re two brothers who’ve sworn to kill each other. We all know how that goes. Half the pantheons here were built over the rubble of that kind of argument. There’s no way to get them to reconcile but kill one off and the other will just pop up and go on his own killing spree raging about how you killed his brother.”

Loki let the room think about that. His eyes found Baldur’s. Baldur was another brother he had failed, albeit from a different family.

“Tell me you didn’t want to kill me the moment I walked through those doors.” His voice was the cold mocking tone that he’d mastered eon’s ago, and it was like a knife to the gut. Baldur pushed himself to his feet.

“Not like he’s the only one.” someone muttered. The tension in the room jumped again, then Kali finally laid down the law.

“Enough.”

“Indeed.” Baron Samdi stood and straightened his suit. “We all agreed to the truce. I don’t know about the rest of you but I would much rather be sampling this fine wine, then trying to get blood out of my clothes.” He picked up a bottle, examined the label then held it up in Baldur’s direction. “I propose a temporary reprieve, at least until the next course is served.”

“Agreed.” Kali said.

Of course after that no one was going to protest.

Loki mentally reviewed the conversation his double had had with the Winchesters. He didn’t an extra excuse to follow Kali back to her room.

She was still as beautiful as when he’d first seen her. One of the few who hadn’t faded as the popularity of the christian religion rose. It was so easy to fall back into flirting with her, even if they were both just playing their roles.

And how gut wrenching was that comparison. This whole situation was hitting too close. He was distracted. He wanted to be anywhere else, but here he was trying to turn this into his own private last night on earth celebration.

Kali took his blood. She knew. Of course she knew. Out of all of them, she had come the closest. She had given him a child for heaven’s sake, it would be insane for her to have not at least guessed the truth of his origin.

So she knew he was Gabriel, which meant they all knew, or would soon enough. Fine. They weren’t going to listen. They wanted Gabriel? He’d play the part. Gabriel was dead, but he was Loki. He’d played hundred of roles. If they thought they were dealing with an angel they’d forget they were dealing with a trickster.

He managed to switch out his sword. Then of course Dean had to go and spill the beans.

Dean was such a hypocrite. Telling him to kill Lucifer, calling him out after all the times people had told him to kill Sam. Gabriel would never be able to kill Lucifer; Loki though, he might have been willing, but he didn’t have the power.

Lucifer made no pretense of hiding.

Loki, Gabriel, whoever he was now; he should have run. It wasn’t just that Kali was still in there, and yes he did care, despite everything. It wasn’t just that the Winchesters had managed to strike a cord like no one else in centuries. Dean with his fuck you attitude and Sam with his willingness to endure anything if it meant the rest of them came out of it in one piece.

Everything he knew down to the core of his grace told him that anything they did could only buy time. Well, there was the cage but that was again only a delay of the inevitable. It sucked. Despite everything he didn’t want it to end. So maybe sticking around was him acting more like a petulant preteen screaming about how it was all so unfair.

Lucifer hadn’t changed. he was still cold and angry and self-righteous. A couple millennia in the cage and he still hadn’t learned his lesson. Not that Gabriel could have said what the lesson was.

Gabriel should have known better. He should have done better. He had been all turned around, and that was never a good way to go into a fight. He wasn’t really an angel, or that wasn’t all he was. He’d been something else for a long time now. Sam and Dean had gotten him wrapped up around their fingers. They’d gotten him thinking in human terms, as if each type of magic was unique and distinct.

He’d chosen to be an angel, rather then being himself, and now he could feel his own blade cutting through his grace.

But, oh that felt weird. Only his grace.

His grace was only one piece of himself and for eons now, he’d kept it separate. By stabbing Gabriel with his own blade, Lucifer had actually done less damage than if he’d used his own. Gabriel struggled, trying to pull off one last trick, one last daring escape. Light flared bleeding over to the visible spectrum, his wings caught fire.

Gabriel blacked out.

His awareness was shattered to the corners, bound to wander to wherever gods and angel’s went when they died. Was he dead? Darkness all around or mealy the absence of light. Didn’t matter, he didn’t have a soul, not like the humans did. This felt familiar. Disjointed then, something, a little tug in something that might have been a direction.


	8. Epilogue

 

_Jörmungandr gathered together the scraps of him that drifted through the sea between worlds._

  


_Fenrir tracked him to the ends of the realms._

  


_Sleipnir carried him down under the ice to the land of the dishonored dead._

  


Gabriel woke with his head in Hel’s lap and his wings in tatters around them. She had grown into a beautiful woman, his daughter, his youngest. Hel leaned down and laid a kiss on his forehead.

Gabriel closed his eyes. Death was apparently feeling charitable, if he was letting Hel be his escort.

He woke again, which was a surprise. His wings were still in tatters, but the rest of him was being stitched back together. He looked up at Hel, tried to ask a question. She stroked her fingers through his hair. He lost himself again.

Rince. Repeat.

He had no idea how long it went on.

 

Eventually he woke and Hel wasn’t there. He was able to take in more of his surroundings. The room was spartan but not uncomfortable. There was a curtain over the doorway that muffled anything that might have come through. He was on a pallet on the ground, and for the first time since Lucifer had stabbed him, his wings weren’t held down.

Gabriel tried to draw them in. He tried to move them at all. They twitched, then lay limp. He pulled his arms up around him and shook. Tears blurred his vision, and he didn’t try to fight them.

Eventually Gabriel forced his breathing to steady. He felt numb not in any real pain but not really feeling anything else either. If this was what death was like, well it certainly could have been worse.

Gabriel drifted to sleep again.

He woke still alone in the room, still unable to move his wings and still disjointed from reality.

This time he forced himself up. It was hard; not so much painful, though it was that, but just, exhausting. He couldn’t stand. It was only about four feet to the door though, and he was fairly sure he could crawl.

Gabriel was panting by the time he could push aside the curtain and lean against the doorframe. The light outside was soft, evening reds and yellows. Crickets were just starting to sing. Hel was there, sitting crosslegged against the wall of the building and sipping lemonade. She was talking to a man who was perched on a bench beside her. He had a beer in one hand and one of his bare feet drawn up under him.

Gabriel closed his eyes, and breathed. A smile tugged at his lips. “Hey, dad.”

  



End file.
